


Twas the Night After Christmas

by Mercenary_bunnies



Category: viscera cleanup detail
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:51:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8948908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercenary_bunnies/pseuds/Mercenary_bunnies
Summary: I wrote this to amuse my friends on Facebook, but I was perversely proud of it once it was done, so I wanted to put it here as well.





	

‘Twas the night after Christmas,  
And all through the shop,  
Not a creature was stirring,  
‘Cept a guy with a mop.

The elves strewn about were really quite dead,  
While visions of overtime danced in my head.  
With a sigh, I tucked my hair up under my cap,  
And set out to clean the mess left by Santa’s snap.

When up in the loft there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang up the stairs to see what was the matter.  
A floorboard had slipped, beneath it I found  
A bunch more dead elves, laying still in a mound.

The letters I found, soaked in whisky and rum,  
Did much to explain Santa’s descent into scum.  
And to what to my wandering eyes should appear,  
But a court summons for damages, caused by defecations of deer.

So many trips to the incinerator, air heavy and thick,  
I could not help but curse the jolly old St. Nick.  
Blood splatters abounded, the bodies he’d maimed,  
Nametags in the carnage let me know each one by name.

But my feelings on carnage won’t force me to cry,  
Years of this work have left me quite wry.  
And so onto the stables with gore-covered shoes,  
With my mop and a bucket, and a biohazard bin too.

One would think walls of stone would prove fireproof,  
But scorch marks surrounded a few antlers and hooves.  
With a huff I sat my gear down on the ground,  
And wondered if anyone survived the meltdown.

One person I’d noticed was mysteriously lacking,  
Mrs. Claus wasn’t here; had she missed his cracking?  
Despite my detachment, I couldn’t help hoping  
That she’d made it out and was somewhere safe, coping.

There were still toys on the tables, and presents, how merry!  
Their contrast with the gore was really quite scary.  
Garlands and candy still strung up on the walls  
With a boombox still belting out holiday schmaltz.  
It looked though the elves made a barricade that night,  
Sadly for them, old St. Nick brought dynamite.  
The faces I saw, flat stares in their eyes,  
Not one of them wore a look of surprise.

The incinerator, it hissed with an evil delight,  
Eerie enough to turn on all of the lights.  
I fancied I heard a jingle of sled  
Which gave me to know that I had much to dread.

I spoke not a word, but completed my work,  
Instead of running the clock for more overtime perks.  
And laying my hand on the old Punch-o-Matic,  
Clocked out from work with fingers emphatic.

I started to leave, then realized I’d forgotten,  
Some items I’d salvaged from the scene misbegotten.  
Going back, I collected my loot, ere I drove out of sight.  
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Viscera Cleanup Detail piece every posted on AO3. I'm not sure how I feel about being the first and likely only one. Ah, well. Maybe someone as twisted as me will find it and get a cheap laugh out of it. 
> 
> As per usual, kudos and comments are very welcome. Stay safe this holiday, everyone.


End file.
